


Fibreglass

by glass_owl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, it's their anniversary c:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26271919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glass_owl/pseuds/glass_owl
Summary: “You know, at least one person a day dies by dozing off in the tub,” Shirabu says flatly.“Again with the useless statistics.”“You’re such a moron.”“And you love me! That's the magic of it all!”Shirabu looks at his pruning fingers with a frown. “Yeah,” he admits, frown settling in even deeper, nesting right into his bones. “I do. I must be an even bigger moron.”-A Kawashira anniversary fic!
Relationships: Kawanishi Taichi/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Fibreglass

**Author's Note:**

> This was the last kawashira - and haikyuu by extension - fic i've ever written. It was for a hq rarepair zine from 2018 c: For archival purposes, i'll throw it up here too c: It was beta'd by two people - and i'm terribly sorry, but it's been so long, i can't quite recall who did the beta reading :c I believe one of them was [ pilindiel on tumblr ](https://pilindiel.tumblr.com/) and the other, I really don't know ;_; if it was you, please let me know so you can be credited where you deserve!

It’s been two hours. Shirabu knows because that was supposed to be his favourite CD rolling in the player, and he’s got the tracklist memorised down pat. He also knows one full loop means an hour and four minutes of his time, and as the player finishes its second loop, Shirabu knows with a kind of despair that this is just the beginning of his downfall. 

To reiterate, it _was_ his favourite CD. Now, he’s not so sure. As the disc makes its third loop and the first track plays out, Shirabu hears it again. That distinct, awful, nasally sound, singing along in what is probably the worst rendition of his favourite song.

Shirabu swears that Kawanishi isn’t that bad of a singer. He may not be the best, but he’s definitely not _this_ bad. Putting two and two together, it only makes sense that Kawanishi is singing in the most hideous off-key voice to annoy the living daylights out of him.

If two hours wasn’t bad enough, then this surely is. Shirabu does the unthinkable: he reaches for the fast forward button, extending his leg through the gap between the front seats only to have Kawanishi bat away at his multi-layered, sock-covered foot.

“Don’t touch my dashboard with your _toes_ ,” Kawanishi frowns. Their eyes meet briefly in the rear view mirror, and Shirabu lets out a long whine.

“Then stop singing,” Shirabu complains, before sinking deeper into his seat and the folds of the bundled winter coats stowed in the back. “Are we really sure we want to do this?” He tries with an appeal; hopes in vain that Kawanishi would turn the car around and head back to Miyagi. Anniversaries may be special, but Shirabu swears the amount of suffering he’s currently stock piled is enough to send him running home. Where they’re headed is _way_ too far away.

“Stop complaining,” Kawanishi snorts. Just like that, Shirabu’s hopes and dreams are quashed. Kawanishi switches gears as he pulls up at a traffic light. They’re passing through another one of those quaint towns with even smaller roads, and they haven’t seen a soul in the last twenty minutes. “You’re not driving, you don’t get a say.”

“I don’t have my license!” Shirabu retorts. Not that that was the crux of his current problems. He reaches for a bag of cheese balls from their snack stash in an attempt to satiate his sad soul. He’s bored and hungry, and he forgot his pizza-flavoured gum on the kitchen table before they left home.

“Excuses, excuses,” Kawanishi says airily, but not without humour.

The engine revs again when the stoplight signals them to go. Shirabu lets out another loud sigh, kicking the back of Kawanishi’s seat in petulance. The small town disappears into the distance as they wind further up the mountains and the scenery is nothing but flashing browns and stretches of white.

He starts to zone out. In the background, Shirabu hears Kawanishi’s awful humming and he silently wills the car to fall off a cliff whilst doing a sharp turn. (He’s kidding, but he really wishes Kawanishi would stop singing.)

-

If Shirabu ever thought he’d get to interact with more human life, he finds out how sorely mistaken he is. Shirakawa-go is even more desolate than half the towns they’ve been through and has more white stuff than actual buildings. It’s so cold - colder than the rest of Miyagi at this time of the year.

There’s fresh snow that stretches for miles behind them. Shirabu can’t recall the exact moment the scenery started to turn less emerald and more stark. He kicks at the snow beds as Kawanishi pulls their baggage out of the car trunk.

“Help me,” Kawanishi wheezes, and despite all the demons in his veins, Shirabu helps him. Shirabu ends up with snow in his shoes and Kawanishi, a stubbed toe. There isn’t anything that spells out the dynamics of their relationship as distinctly as that does. 

Shirabu can’t tell what to make of that.

-

“Okay, so just so we’re clear,” Shirabu starts as he takes off his winter coat. “I’m only here because they have an _onsen_.”

The _minshuku_ they’re in is perfectly quaint. They get a small room with a picturesque view of the mountains: fields of snow-capped trees and a portrait vision of mountains far into the distance. They managed to check in a little after 3:00 p.m. - a 6.5 hour drive from their sleepy town in Miyagi. And after all the stumbling, bumbling, and fumbling at eight in the morning, even Shirabu will begrudgingly admit that it had all been worth it just so they could reach Shirakawa-go while the sun was still up.

“Are you going to blatantly ignore the fact that the town’s name is literally a mash-up of our names?” Kawanishi snorts. He helps Shirabu out of his hundred layers of clothes. And his beanie. And his scarf. And his gloves. Not the socks, though.

Shirabu shoots him a withering stare. “That’s the dumbest reason for wanting to come here.”

“C’mon! What better way to spend our fifth anniversary by being in a town called _Shirakawa-go_!”

“It has a ‘ _go_ ’ in it,” Shirabu says distastefully. “Like, _Goshiki_. As if Goshiki is some kind of accidental child that had to be strung to the back of it and has to deal being tied to us-”

Kawanishi shushes him with a flick on the forehead. 

“It’ll be fun,” he says kindly, eyes softening. Kawanishi has always had that special hold on him, something warm and magical. The effect is instantaneous:- Shirabu melts. If he had to be perfectly honest, there’s only one reason why Shirabu is even bothered to make the trip. He doesn’t go through the embarrassment of repeating it more times than he has to, but he assumes it largely goes unsaid between them. 

Shirabu’s pretty sure Kawanishi knows how much he loves him.

-

They go to the open-air, public _onsens_ before doing anything else. Only because Kawanishi complains that they’re both dirty and culturing bacteria on their skin. Shirabu figures it’s probably the fatigue from them having driven for a solid six hours. And since Shirabu’s heart always goes gold for Kawanishi, he caves. He insists it’s because there’s nothing else to do in this town - a town so impressively sleepy and quiet, their hometown becomes a party in comparison.

While there are many well-known combinations of harmonious coexistences (like sweet-and-salty popcorn or peanut butter-bacon toast), Shirabu admits that the hot-and-cold combination of a wintry _onsen_ makes the list as well. He does a thorough wash down with too much soap, turning into a temporary Yeti of Shirakawa-go.

The _onsen_ water is probably a bit too hot on its own, but with his skin frosting over from the cold, the temperature becomes perfect. He sinks in next to Kawanishi, letting out ‘old-men’ sighs as the water soothes his unreachable itches and warms his skin to something comfortable and refreshing. Next to him, Kawanishi sinks a little lower and blows out a stream of bubbles from his nostrils.

“So,” Shirabu starts as he pinches Kawanishi on the arm. The latter looks at him with a wounded expression. “Is this all we’re doing for the next two days?” He makes wild hand gestures. “Old people activities? _Onsen_ , eating, TV, and sleeping?”

“Yeh,” Kawanishi drones. “And we’re going to start right now. I’m going to sleep.” Just as he says, Kawanishi closes his eyes and leans against a rock décor.

Shirabu squints in distaste. Kawanishi could certainly be free-spirited and Shirabu wouldn’t put it past him to be as lax as possible with their plans. That being said, Shirabu would murder him in his sleep if that was all they had planned for the next two days.

“You know, at least one person a day dies by dozing off in the tub,” Shirabu says flatly.

“Again with the useless statistics.”

“You’re such a moron.”

“And you love me! That's the magic of it all!”

Shirabu looks at his pruning fingers with a frown. “Yeah,” he admits, frown settling in even deeper, nesting right into his bones. “I do. I must be an even bigger moron.”

Kawanishi cracks open an eye and peeps at him. “That’s probably it,” he says around a yawn, and Shirabu squirts water straight into his unsuspecting eye.

-

“I haven’t seen a store for miles on the way here. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Kawanishi gives Shirabu’s fingers a firm squeeze. Some time while they were in the _onsen_ , it had started to snow again. It’s almost beautiful, and Shirabu would have liked to admire the silver in the wind from the comforts of their cosy, little room. Alas, nothing ever works in his favour.

Apparently, there’s no dinner.

“What kind of _minshuku_ doesn’t offer dinner?” Shirabu bemoans.

“Do you ever stop complaining?” Kawanishi laughs lightly. It’s a rare sort of laugh, the kind that vibrates through his body and shakes something warm and visceral in Shirabu’s heart. Shirabu swears he’s getting better at drawing out reactions like these. But they keep trudging north while the village continues to disappear behind them as they scale a hill towards the main road, and Shirabu is far from amused.

“We’re moving away from the village centre,” Shirabu says slowly. He watches Kawanishi carefully, measuring his reaction. A sign. _Anything_.

“Truly.”

Shirabu hauls Kawanishi to a stop. He deadpans as best as he can, “No, seriously, where are we going? Because if we’re going to fight to the death in a forest, I’m sorry to say you’re not going to win.”

Kawanishi rolls his eyes. "Just trust me, alright?"

A soft silence settles between them and the only sounds heard are the crunching of snow and twigs underfoot as they make their way to higher ground. As the village falls behind them, the lights start to dim, casting long shadows ahead. They end up on a hiking trail and Shirabu is now more convinced than ever that they’re actually going to fight to their deaths in a forest.

“There’s food where we’re going, yeah?” Shirabu asks meekly as the trees around them grow denser and taller. The lights have completely faded out and the silence is deafening.

“Well, wherever it is we're heading, at least I’ll be there. That’s kind of all you ever need, right?” Kawanishi jokes. 

When they finally make an exit, the sight leaves Shirabu breathless. The village spreads out beneath the cliff like a ripple of liquid gold, the village lights shimmering over the tinted, snowy roofs. There’s a glowing sort of warmth that emanates from the view, and it tickles something soft inside Shirabu. 

He side-steps a little closer to Kawanishi, gripping their hands tighter, trying to root himself in the moment. His heart trips and swings, pulse dancing to an old melody he knows all too well. It’s always there - the dormant feeling of being so indescribably in love and so perfectly lucky to have found someone so good for him. It’s only in these little moments that Shirabu allows his emotions to tide over like a wave rolling across the sand - gently removing the walls he’s built around himself, allowing himself to stand raw and affected.

Kawanishi knows all the right strings to pull, and Shirabu will always let him.

“No, you’re right,” Shirabu admits quietly. “Wherever you are, that’s where I’d want to be. Even if it means spending the weekend in a dying village with crusty lights.”

“Don’t be rude,” Kawanishi snorts softly. “There’s plenty of things to do here.” But he knows Shirabu is only kidding. He pulls the smaller boy in, closer to the beating heart in his chest. 

In that little window of time, with just the two of them in their little glass house of infinity, Shirabu simply couldn’t ask for more.

**Author's Note:**

> This version is mildly changed from the one that got published with the zine! Thanks for reading c: You can find me on [Tumblr](http://ameagarii.tumblr.com/) or [Tweetter](https://twitter.com/sepulchrate) but I haven't touched haikyuu in ages, so you're not going to find any of that there c:


End file.
